Henry held up a hard plastic Buzz Lightyear instead of his glass and pushed a red button on its chest. “To infinity . . . and beyond!” the toy said, and everybody laughed.
“No Buzz at the table, kiddo,” Kyle said, gently removing the toy from his son’s grasp. Henry crossed his arms over his chest and pouted while Natalie picked up the serving tongs from the platter filled with perfectly cooked, fanned-out slices of roast and handed them to Brooke.
“So, Brooke,” Kyle said, after she’d filled her plate and passed the platter over to Natalie. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell,” she replied as lightly as she could. “I grew up here in Seattle and I’m a waitress at a bar in Pioneer Square. That’s about it. Nothing very exciting.”
“Are you married?” Kyle asked.
“No,” Brooke said. Didn’t Natalie tell him any of what she and Brooke had already talked about?
“No children?” he said.
“No,” Brooke said again, feeling a twist of queasiness in her gut. Oh, lord. Don’t let me get sick now.
“Kyle,” Natalie said. Her voice was full of warning. She gave Brooke an apologetic smile. “Sometimes he forgets he’s not in court.” She looked back at her husband. “Right, honey?”
Kyle hesitated only a moment before launching a relaxed smile. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “I apologize. I’m happy you could join us tonight.”
“I’m happy, too,” Natalie said quietly, and Brooke nodded, despite harboring the distinct feeling that she wasn’t quite ready to say the same thing.
Natalie
“Would anyone like coffee to go with dessert?” Natalie asked after they had all finished their dinner and moved into the living room. Brooke sat in the large recliner, while Kyle and the kids settled on the couch. Natalie stood in the archway that linked the kitchen to the front of the house, trying to figure out how the evening was going. On the one hand, Kyle had walked in almost two hours late—after promising to be there to help manage the kids and help her get dinner ready—and then practically interrogated her sister. On the other hand, after Natalie gently scolded Kyle for overwhelming Brooke with too many questions he already knew the answers to, he managed to keep the rest of the conversation polite and neutral, inquiring about the other places she’d worked and where she lived in the city, questions to which Brooke supplied very general answers.
“None for me, thanks,” Brooke said, glancing at the clock on the mantel, which read eight fifteen. “In fact, I should probably get going.”
“Oh no,” Natalie said. “You can’t miss dessert! It’s my thing.” Her eyes pleaded with Brooke. “Stay a bit longer?”
Hailey bounced on the couch and then climbed into Kyle’s lap. “Yeah! Mommy made a really yummy cake. It’s lemon. With guess what? Raspberry filling! And I helped!”
“Me, too!” Henry said, holding on to one of his father’s arms.
“Well,” Brooke said. “In that case, I’d better stay.” She crossed her legs and set her forearms over her abdomen. Natalie rushed into the kitchen and returned as quickly as she could with a tray covered in small dessert plates, which she set down on the coffee table. She’d found the table at an antiques store in the Junction, and while it was older and needed refinishing, Natalie loved its oval shape and elegant, curved legs. Once she got it home, she’d painted the table white, then used a wire brush to give its edges a slightly distressed, aged look. It was her favorite piece in the house.
“Here you go,” Natalie said, handing Brooke a dessert plate.
“Thank you,” Brooke said, stifling a yawn. “Sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“A side effect of your job, I’d imagine,” Kyle said. “You must work late.”
“I do,” Brooke said, carefully. She held on to her fork and the edge of her plate tightly.
“Have you ever worked outside the restaurant industry?” Kyle asked Brooke.
“No, actually,” Brooke said, with a sharp edge. “I like what I do.” As Natalie gave a plate to each of her children and then kept the last for herself, she was afraid her husband was pushing her older sister too far. Everything that came out of his mouth sounded like an accusation.
“That’s great,” Kyle said, overly enthusiastic.
Brooke took a small bite of her dessert, chewed it, and then set her plate on the small end table next to her chair.
“Is Mommy’s birth mom your mom, too?” Hailey asked, breaking the bit of silence in the room.
Oh, god, Natalie thought, watching as Brooke folded her hands together in her lap. “Sweetie,” Natalie said to her daughter. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”
“Why not?” Hailey asked, running a finger over her plate to swipe up a streak of raspberry filling.
“It’s okay,” Brooke said, and then looked at Hailey. “Your mom’s birth mother is mine, too, but I didn’t grow up with her. I lived in a state home.”
“What’s that?” Henry asked. His mouth was full of cake, and Kyle attempted to keep him from accidentally spitting it onto the couch by cupping his palm under Henry’s chin.